


Sins of the Flesh

by Lokvadnod



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27828655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokvadnod/pseuds/Lokvadnod
Summary: Even the most proper of Thalmor affiliates are subject to temptation. And what's one more dirty little secret in a city like Markarth?
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ondolemar, Male Altmer/female breton, Ondolemar (Elder Scrolls)/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	Sins of the Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr, very minorly edited in its transfer from there to here. This is a spur of the moment thing that grew into a three-chapter pornfest. I hope you enjoy. (Updates will be sporadic, but chapter 2 is 80% done so bolo.)

Of all the things you never expected to be doing in the very wee hours of a Tirdas morning, writhing around your bed with a snobbish high elf had to be at the top. Ondolemar’s large body, bare save for his small clothes, bore down on yours, taking up most of your bed in Vlindrell hall and pressing you firmly into the animal skins and straw as he kissed a plump trail along your neck.

“Please, Ondo, stop teasing.” You breathed, fighting the urge to moan.

“Don’t call me that and perhaps I will.” His hands tightened on your wrists at either side of your head but his mouth stayed on its track down your neck and shoulder.

“Fine.” You hissed as you felt him nip at your clavicle, “Please, oh great and benevolent Thalmor Justiciar, have mercy on the poor little Breton.”

There was a sharp exhale by your ear, and if you hadn’t been so caught up in your own lust, the look your Altmer partner pulled back to give you would have sent you rolling. He leveled you with the most unamused look you’d seen, his face squinted in its practiced scowl, but you paid it no mind. You’d gotten his attention.

A roll of your hips up against him disturbed his mask. His eyes fluttered and his body pressed down into yours harder than before, your pelvis under his stomach.

“You’re insufferable.” Ondolemar growled and brought his lips crashing down to yours.

The kiss lasted for quite a while, with his golden body flush against you and one hand burning a trail up and down your side. It was not the first kiss you’d shared, there had been a few stolen in private moments before, but it was the first of its particular kind. Completely safe to last and gain traction, unthreatened by the possibility of a guard’s intrusion. Even your housecarl was on paid orders to stay at the inn tonight.

Against yours, Ondolemar’s lips tasted faintly of snowberries and you found it hard to pair them with the mer above you, the one that paced the halls of Understone, belittling anyone he deemed fit. And when his hand ghosted down to tug your small clothes away from your hips, he certainly didn’t seem like the righteous Justiciar he claimed to be. He seemed little more than a male with base desires like any other.

His thumb found the bundle of nerves between your thighs and you felt like you could sing. Your free hand found purchase in his hair, pulling it until he broke the kiss with a pant.

“Is this what you wanted, Breton?” He pushed harder at the little nub and you saw stars shoot across your vision, “To be made a whimpering whore by your superior?”

“You call me anything you want, Altmer, but do remember you’re the one who’s fucking me.”

This was your game, the one the two of you’d been playing for weeks. A back and forth of derision and snark, one that you could tell set a fire in Ondolemar’s blood as well as his pants, as if all he ever craved was someone who saw through his bullshit just as much as they wouldn’t take it. It always made him squirm…

And now, it drove him to thrusting a finger into your quim.

If you’d have had the room to do so, you would have arched right off the bed. His finger was long, slender, and he was suspiciously quick to find a spot within you that made your toes curl. He pressed his finger up into it, opposite his thumb bearing down on the outside, and set to rubbing your mind apart in tight circles. The over stimulation sent you babbling nonsense at him, words somewhere between a praise, a curse, and a begging need.

He added another digit that choked you with a lewd whine and drove your head back against the pillows.

“Now, you’re going to be a darling girl, aren’t you?” He cooed against your chin, “you’re going to be a darling girl, drop the attitude, and spend yourself on my fingers, am I understood?”

With fingers hooked into your warmth, pushing into whatever heaven he’d found over and over, you could do nothing to broach your usual protests. The proud part of your mind whispered that you should counter with disobedience, with more “attitude”, perhaps shout him off of you just enough to give you the chance at showing him that you’re no “darling girl”. But fuck if the larger, more primal part of your mind didn’t want to be his darling girl for as long as he damn well pleased. You could do little more than submit.

You came against him quick, with a chorus of ragged, relieved moans, soaking his fingers until the mess of it dribbled down and left a wet spot on your bedfurs. He watched you as if enraptured, dark eyes blown wide and trained solely on you.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his fingers slowing to a gentle massage as you gasped and came down from your high, “such a whore for me with such a greedy little quim.” His lips brushed yours. “You’re almost irresistible.”

“That was good, Justiciar,” you panted back, unable to resist a good tease, “suspiciously good for a _mer_.”

“Darling girl,” he rasped back, “I can make you feel better than any man or _mer_ ever has.”

You felt the sensation of his fingers leave, replaced by the brush of something stiff and warm against your folds. Losing control once again, you couldn’t stop your hips as they bucked lazily against him. The movement caused the head of his cock to slip down and press deliciously into the wet mess of your entrance, and his haughty look was broken by a groan.

You grappled at him, your thighs spread wide to beckon him in, your entire body and mind forgetting anything but the need to be filled.

“Do it then.” You snarled in challenge, “Prove. It.”

And he did.

With a set jaw and a strained noise from the back of his throat, he obliged and split you in two.

You’d heard countless times in your life that each race had its merits. The Nords had their hardiness, the orcs had their unmatched strength, the Dunmer, their passion and so on, but the Altmer... you’d yet to find a true merit to the cocky band of bullies until you felt the length of Ondolemar’s cock fill you thoroughly out, and still with a bit to spare. It was then that you decided that maybe, just _maybe_ , there was something to this whole superiority thing.

Ondolemar didn’t give you the chance to adjust before he set a bruising pace. The entire room filled with the sound and smell of sex as he pounded down into you, his mouth on your neck again.

He bit tantalizing kisses into your skin as you drug red lines across his back and moaned for him, glad for the privacy your home afforded. Coupled with the rhythmic bang of your bed against the stone wall, your own moaning fueled your heat and only served to make everything louder. More wanton. You found yourself increasingly glad that you’d sent Argis away for the night, if just for the sake of his ears.

Well, and the sake of your dirty little secret thrusting into you with abandon.

Ondolemar rose to his knees over you, both of his hands pulling at your hips until they were more on his lap than on the bed. He continued his relentless thrusts with a renewed vigor as he watched you squirm. His thumbs dug into your hipbones.

“I’m not long, darling girl, where do you want it?”

He looked absolutely disheveled above you like this. His hair fell more around his face and his golden skin shone in the candlelight with a layer of sweat. Lithe muscles rolled as he worked, making him quite the sight and it sent another shot of lust down through your bones.

“Outside. Anywhere.” Was all you could choke out for his harsh pounding. His brow quirked.

“Anywhere?” He echoed and his lip curled into a sneer, “Dirty girl.”

In a flash of gold on white, he flipped you over, only slipping out of you long enough to swing your legs around and position your body with your head against the pillow and ass in the air. He slipped in again and a large hand slid down your spine, taking hold of the back of your neck. Shamefully, you bucked against him.

“That’s it, Breton.” He spat behind you just as you kept pushing back on him, “So _filthy_ , don’t you stop.”

And you didn’t. You thrust back on him, your ass connecting with his hips, his erection dipping deep into your quim, until he was an uncharacteristic, sputtering mess, grabbing at your skin and hair, coming undone. You found your second release bouncing against him like that, back arched into just the right angle for him to hit the spot he’d tortured you with earlier. He shuddered, feeling you grip impossibly tight around him, and pulled out a few thrusts later. You turned just in time to see him straighten and paint your ass with his seed, breathless and wrecked, spewing a string of words in high elvish that you doubted were suitable for court. His hips pushed in rhythm against his hand until he was finally completely spent, the evidence found in a smattering of his mess all over your backside.

He sat there panting behind you for a quiet moment. When he finally looked at you, his face seemed softer.

“You know, you are quite beautiful for a human, if I’m honest.”

You threw him a grin as you reached for a couple of stray bits of cloth in your nightstand.

“See?” You teased, “being nice once in a while doesn’t hurt."

Ondolemar looked at you with honeyed eyes that almost seemed alien on him as he took the rag you offered. He watched you like that while you both wiped at your bodies, looking for all the world like some meddling Daedra had come along and switched your acidic mer with a more agreeable copy.

“Beautiful but absolutely insufferable.” He said quietly, and pursed his lips a little too late to hide the sweet smile that bloomed there.


End file.
